


locker room talk

by starryhoch (slytherminie)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Hockey, Alternate Universe - Skating, Bets & Wagers, Bickering, M/M, Mentioned SEVENTEEN Ensemble, Multi, himbos seokgyu are my pride and joy, jun is a bit snarky but he's lovable, mingyu makes food for his homies because he loves them, seokmin has stars in his eyes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-18 11:15:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29488902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slytherminie/pseuds/starryhoch
Summary: “You know what?” Mingyu asks, mirroring Seokmin’s stance and taking a step forward to get into Seokmin’s personal space. “Winner is whoever manages to score a date with Moon Junhui.”Junhui blinks. What the fuck? That's his name.
Relationships: Kim Mingyu/Lee Seokmin | DK, Kim Mingyu/Lee Seokmin | DK/Wen Jun Hui | Jun, Kim Mingyu/Wen Jun Hui | Jun, Lee Seokmin | DK/Wen Jun Hui | Jun
Comments: 17
Kudos: 104
Collections: 218 Fest





	locker room talk

**Author's Note:**

> _Prompt: just two himbo jocks (preferably hockey players) making fool out of themselves in front of figure skater junhui just two best friends, unaware of their feelings for each other, are in pursuit of wen junhui who tells them to sort out whatever that is between them and come to him after._
> 
> * * *
> 
> i hope that whoever sent this prompt is satisfied with the result!! i had lots of fun writing this, and as you can probably tell i know very little about hockey and figure skating, but it was fun to dip my toe into ice sports during these cold months!!! soft himbos seokgyu were a delight to write. please enjoy <33
> 
> HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY FAVOURITE HIMBO MR DEEKAY!!!!!!!!! AND TO MR VERNON AS WELL even if he has just a tiny cameo here, i love them both very very much <3

Locker rooms. 

Junhui hates them. 

It’s the stench in them, the sweat mixing with that peculiar smell that synthetic ice has. It hurts his nostrils, makes his nose curl up in distaste as soon as he puts foot inside the warm room. He already knows who was there before him, he can tell just by taking a deep breath in through his nose - which he doesn’t do, because he cares for the wellbeing of his lungs. 

Gross. Men are so gross. 

“You’re a man too,” Minghao points out, flicking his forefinger at his nose before letting his gym bag hit the pavement as he takes a seat on the closest bench. Junhui rubs the tip of it with the palm of his hand, grumbling under his breath.

“It smells like testosterone in here,” he laments, taking his shoes off by stepping on the heels. Minghao rolls his eyes. 

“Stop being dramatic.”

Before Junhui has time to protest, say that standing in there is making him feel the need to punch someone just by breathing the air that the sweaty mass of men preceding them left behind, their coach is popping his head inside the room, telling them to move along. Junhui finishes lacing his skates with a flourish and off he goes, following the man towards the ice rink. He has a routine to go through today, and he doesn’t want to think of grunting idiots more than he should. 

The warm up process is just him and Minghao racing each other along the track, making sure that their limbs are all stretched and ready as they glide over the smooth surface. Minghao is still recovering from a slight ankle injury he encountered during their last event, so he’s taking it slow, rolling his foot out to make sure it’s ready for the harder steps.

“Minghao, no jumps!” Coach Yoon yells at him as a reminder, which makes the younger skater pout. 

“C’mon, hyung!” Minghao yells back, but he slows down his speed, turning around to skate forward instead of attempting the jump he was clearly preparing. 

“Don’t _hyung_ me!” Jeonghan yells back at him, his folded arms resting over the banister as his eyes follow the red flur of limbs around the rink, making sure that he doesn’t attempt anything stupid. “You’re not fully healed yet, and you’re not damaging your ankle further, not under my watch.”

Minghao huffs, twirling around Junhui, who’s stopped to stretch his hands towards his feet, making sure his whole body is loose enough to avoid pulling a muscle - it wouldn’t be the first time, and probably wouldn’t be the last either, but he’d rather avoid the pain if he can. 

Following Jeonghan’s orders, Minghao takes a seat off the ice to stretch his legs while Junhui practices his short program, twirls and steps that he knows by heart but that he still needs to polish before the competition coming up the following month. He lets the music guide him, limbs easily following his mind’s orders, his ears listening to the notes and tuning in on them and the sound of his blades gliding over the ice. 

It’s all familiar, the way cold envelopes him but his muscles burn with the strain of keeping his balance when he jumps and lands with a slight sway. He will need to go over that quadruple Salchow again to make sure it’s perfect, but for now he glides towards the opposite edge of the rink, his mind already focusing on the next steps.

Once the music fades and he stands still in the middle of the rink, bowing while heavy breaths trouble his lungs, he hears clapping - the sound loud and resonating in the sudden quiet atmosphere. His head snaps up, his eyes moving to identify the source of the noise, knowing full well who it must be once a voice calls out his name.

“Moon Junhui! That was incredible!” 

Junhui sighs, throwing an exasperated glance at his coach, who has a cunning grin on his face. Even if his best friend is hidden from view, Junhui can still hear Minghao’s giggle from his position on the floor. Taking in a deep breath through his nose, Junhui counts to five before making his way over to the other side of the rink with quick efficiency, launching himself at the banister to flick his forefinger at Lee Seokmin’s stupidly sharp nose. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” Junhui asks, unable to stop his annoyance from bleeding into his voice. Seokmin recoils slightly, but his smile doesn’t dim, the wattage of it lighting up the whole building. 

“I wanted to see you, hyung!” He says, bouncing on the balls of his feet while his hands grip the banister, his knuckles going white. The tension in him is clear, despite how he tries to play it off with a casual shrug of his shoulders and a sunny grin. “Minghao told me your program is incredible this time around and I wanted to see for myself.” 

Junhui turns around, searching for that traitor he calls a best friend; Minghao is back on the ice, perfecting a spin under the strict surveillance of Jeonghan. When he faces Seokmin again, the younger has his hands intertwined together, held below his chin, puppy-eyes in place. 

“Let’s get hot chocolate together after you’re done with practice,” he says, jutting his bottom lip out for good measure. Junhui feels a headache forming behind his eyes, as he rubs his forehead and squeezes his eyelids shut. 

“I already told you.” Junhui opens his eyes to fix them in Seokmin’s, trying to keep his stern facade despite Seokmin’s pleading gaze. “I don’t do dates.”

“It’s not a date!” Seokmin starts to protest, but Junhui cuts him off. “Your friend Mingyu asked me out _again_ this morning, already. I’m losing my patience with the two of you.”

It feels a bit like kicking a defenseless puppy, watching as Seokmin’s face falls at his words, his lips curling down while his eyebrows drop. Junhui almost feels bad. Then he thinks of the conversation he overheard in the locker room the previous week, and his resolve gets back, stronger than ever. He stares at Seokmin with icy eyes, his arms folded over his chest. 

“I repeated the same thing to him. I don’t do dates.” There’s a quick intake of breath from Seokmin, his shoulders sagging. It’s almost comical how fast he deflates. “Especially, I don’t do dates with testosterone-filled hockey players that can’t discern a Lutz form an Axel.” 

Finally, as if on cue, Jeonghan calls for him, telling him that his break is over - not that he wanted a break in the first place, Junhui thinks, but coach Yoon takes a very sick pleasure in torturing his athletes in any way he can. Giving one last look at Seokmin’s disgruntled expression, Junhui salutes him with two fingers to his forehead before skating backwards, towards the center of the rink. 

When his eyes travel back to the side once he’s done repeating his short program, he finds out Seokmin has left the building, leaving no traces of his passage. 

❆

It’s not usual for Junhui to be on time. More than anything, it’s not usual for him to be early. 

It’s a Monday, and he knows full well that the hockey team is going to be at the rink before his morning training, but he miscalculated the time it would take him to make the commute. Now here he is, his hands shoved inside the pockets of his jacket, his nose buried in the soft wool of his scarf, standing in front of the bleachers as he watches men slam into each other as they run around the ice rink with sticks in their hands, following a stupid black disk. Ridiculous. 

One of them goes flying, his body hitting the ice with a loud sound that makes Junhui wince, his shoulders rising towards his ears in a defense mechanism, as if he’s the one getting body-slammed against the hard ground. There’s a loud whistle, the team’s coach yelling something that Junhui can’t quite catch as two boys stop in front of the one lying face down on the ice, crouching to check on him.

The guy rolls on his back and lets out a laugh. 

“I’m fine!” He hollers, sitting up and then standing, dusting off white shards from his clothes as one of the other guys checks him with his shoulder, bumping them together. Junhui’s eyes follow who he knows is Kwon Soonyoung, the team’s ace, as he recovers from his fall and gets back to the game, stealing the puck from below his mate’s nose and skating fast towards the goalie. 

Kim Mingyu is tall, so tall and broad that he almost covers the whole net, but Soonyoung is quick on his feet and smart enough to pass the disk off to his right, to Vernon, who shoots towards Mingyu with precision. The rubber disk gets past Mingyu’s stick, ending behind his back. A loud whistle from their coach signals that practice is over with that score, and Junhui giggles to himself as he watches Soonyoung launching himself across the ice to end on the floor once again, this time tackling Vernon down with him.

The rowdy crowd leaves the rink, leaving space for the ice resurfacer to glide over it and fix it up for Junhui’s upcoming practice. Standing there as the machine does its work, Junhui marvels at how smooth and gleaming the new ice looks once it gets renewed, always enthralled by the magic whenever he watches it happen. 

He waits for a bit there on the bleachers, leaving some time for the hockey players to vacate the locker room before making his way over. 

It’s not that he doesn’t like the team - he’s really good friends with Soonyoung, with whom he shared classes the past two years and this year as well, sitting together and sharing notes. The rest of the boys aren’t that bad either, it’s just that they’re always so loud and they’re always firing him a hundred questions that he can barely keep up with. 

Today he isn’t in the mood for chit-chat, so he stares at the ice instead, replaying his routine in his head. The cold is starting to make him shiver despite his padded jacket and the thick beanie tugged down over his ears, so he decides to move, making his way down the stairs and towards the locker room. He meets Vernon on the way, but the younger man just waves at him, clearly on a schedule if the spring in his steps is anything to go by. 

The other players pass by, all of them smiling and waving at Junhui on their way out of the building. When he gets to the door of the locker room, he has a hand raised in the air, ready to knock, but a familiar voice cuts him off before he can complete the motion.

“You don’t have the balls to ask him out,” Mingyu says, amusement clear in his tone. Junhui isn’t exactly familiar with Kim Mingyu, but he knows what the boy sounds when he’s about to laugh, having heard the noise plenty of times to recognize it. As nosy as he is, Junhui pauses in his steps, pushing the door ajar just enough to hear better. Sue him for meddling in the hockey players’ business.

There’s a snicker from another boy that Junhui can’t place immediately, but he recognizes the owner when he speaks out against Mingyu’s accusation.

“You’re the one without balls,” Seokmin replies, trying to sound cutting but giggling again around the word _balls._ Junhui truly believes that the hockey team is made up of dumbasses. 

“I will bet fifty thousands won that you won’t be able to utter a single word in his presence.”

Mingyu scoffs, and Junhui feels it reverberate through the air, as he peers inside the room and watches the two teammates stare at each other with unmovable eyes, stony looks on both of their faces. They’re ridiculous, Junhui believes.

“That’s easy money,” Mingyu replies, “I bet that _you_ would never be able to ask him out.”

Another laugh comes from Seokmin as he crosses his arms over his chest, puffing it out to try and look bigger - it’s a pity that the boys aren’t wearing their protective gear anymore, and Seokmin is noticeably smaller than tall, wide Mingyu. 

“Sounds like an easy win.”

“You know what?” Mingyu asks, mirroring Seokmin’s stance and taking a step forward to get into Seokmin’s personal space. “Winner is whoever manages to score a date with Moon Junhui.”

Junhui blinks. What the fuck? That’s his name.

“Deal,” Seokmin replies, grinning while he shakes Mingyu’s hand, the two of them staring at each other with a challenge written all over their faces. Junhui, the apparent main focus of their stupid bet, looks at them with his mouth hanging open until the two of them separate and retrieve their bags; he’s quick enough to disappear towards the toilets, avoiding a far too awkward encounter, but the thought plagues him throughout the whole week, wondering if he actually dreamt the whole interaction.

It’s six days later, on a Tuesday morning, that Junhui meets Kim Mingyu in the busiest coffee shop on campus, while he’s sitting on his own with his notes and books scattered on the table in front of him. The taller man walks up to him, drops down on the chair across him. Junhui barely raises his gaze to regard him with an icy stare, going back to his papers almost immediately.

“Hey,” Mingyu says, running one of his hands between dark locks of messy hair. It’s short and styled out of his face, and Junhui can’t deny he looks good in his low-cut cardigan, half of his chest exposed to the air. He distractedly wonders if he isn’t cold.

“Junhui, right?” Mingyu asks, as if the Venn diagram of their social circles doesn’t overlap so perfectly that it’s actually a circle. 

“Sorry, I’m not sure I remember your name,” Junhui replies, putting his face between his palms and acting like he’s tremendously sorry for his forgetfulness. 

“Kim Mingyu,” Mingyu grins, and Junhui has to restrain himself from scoffing at the way Mingyu inflates with pride, his chest puffing out. 

“That’s right!” Junhui snaps his fingers as if he just remembered who the guy is. “You’re the one that threw up into the pasta pot at Joshua’s house party last month.”

At that, Mingyu has the decency to blush, shrinking in his seat. “Yeah,” he confirms, voice quieter than before. “That would be me.”

“Fancy seeing you here!” Junhui smiles, making sure it comes off as sincere as possible. He doesn’t know what Mingyu is doing here, and why he sat down at his table, given all the empty ones around them, but he has an inkling that he won’t like this. 

“Yeah,” Mingyu repeats, slightly cocking his head to the side, “about that. I was wondering if you’re free.”

A sigh gets out of Junhui’s nose, quiet enough not to be picked up by the younger boy. “Mmh?” He asks, pretending he hasn’t heard the words that were just thrown at him. “What was that again?”

Mingyu seems to lose a bit of his bravery, his shoulders dropping slightly as he folds into himself, seemingly smaller than he’s supposed to be. If he wasn’t so annoyed, Junhui would probably find him cute.

After clearing his throat, Mingyu speaks again: “I was wondering if you wanted to get some coffee with me, if you’re free.” There’s a blush high on his cheeks, all of his previous bravado suddenly evaporated. Junhui thinks he likes him more like this, a spluttering mess. 

“I’m already drinking something,” Junhui points out, his hand shaking the half-full mug on the flat surface between them. 

“I mean, not necessarily now. Sometime. We could get coffee together, sometime.” 

Lifting his cup to his face to hide the grin pulling at his lips, Junhui takes a small sip of his lukewarm herbal tea. It’s still good despite it not being piping hot anymore. Over the rim of the cup he watches Mingyu squirm in his seat, clearly waiting for a reply. 

“I don’t do dates,” he settles on saying, carefully studying Mingyu’s reaction as the words get out of his mouth. There’s a tiny frown on Mingyu’s face, his eyebrows drawn together when he asks: “Is it a general rule?”

Junhui replies with a shrug of his left shoulder, casual. “Kinda,” he lets his mouth blabber out, finding out that it’s easy to make up lies as he goes. “It isn’t exactly related to you,” he lies again, when he knows full well that he’s saying no simply because he overheard the conversation between Mingyu and Seokmin the previous week. 

Mingyu’s suspicious expression has melted into a pout, his lips slightly jutted out when he speaks again. 

“It’s a pity,” the younger claims, “I would have loved to go out with you at some point.”

Junhui feels like toying with him a little more, not satisfied with Mingyu’s reactions so far.

“Try asking me again during the weekend,” he says, taking another sip of his tea. “I might change my mind then.”

Mingyu stares at him with his mouth open wide, confusion written all over his face. 

“Now get out of my sight, unless you want me to swear off dating you forever.”

With a flurry of limbs, Mingyu is out of the chair and out of Junhui’s hair in a flash, disappearing from the café so fast that Junhui wonders if he wasn’t just a hallucination. 

The scarf he left behind, folded on the arm of the chair, tells him he was very much real. Junhui picks it up when he leaves the café - it smells great when he wraps it around his neck, despite Mingyu always being at the rink and smelling of sweat and testosterone. Junhui wonders what kind of laundry detergent he uses. 

❆

“Are you still rejecting them both?” 

Minghao has a cup of hot tea between his hands, his feet propped up on the banister; he blows over the liquid, vapor rising in the cold air and blowing over his face, tinting his cheeks in pink.

They’re waiting for their turn on the ice, the hockey team having run over their slot - Coach Yoon stormed off to give an earful to Coach Choi, but he ended up standing on the ice and directing the suicide for the team instead. It’s with sick pleasure that Minghao and Junhui stare at the poor boys getting tortured by Jeonghan, who’s making them skate back and forth along the rink with a wide grin on his face.

On the side, Coach Choi stares, baffled and probably a little turned on - Junhui has always sensed a weird aura whenever the two coaches come into contact, but he can’t blame Choi Seungcheol for the lovesick expression on his face. He gets it. Before knowing Jeonghan better, he had a crush on the older skater for a couple of months. 

It faded as he realized how sadistic the man can be.

“Yeah,” Junhui confirms to Minghao, stretching his arms towards his legs. They’ve already changed into their practice attire, ready to get on the ice as soon as the hockey team gets out and the zamboni does its magic trick. 

“Why? You don’t like either of them?”

Junhui thinks about it for a second as his eyes follow Mingyu gliding on the ice, skating as fast as he can, Seokmin hot on his trail. They’re the last two of the group, and Jeonghan said that whoever finishes last will have to do fifty push ups off the ice; they’re both putting their all into the race, but they also keep elbowing each other and chuckling. 

“It’s not that,” Junhui replies, his gaze not leaving the pair. “There’s the stupid bet, of course.” He told Minghao about it, and his best friend has agreed on the fact that men - especially the ones who play aggressive sports - are the worst. 

“But there’s something else, too.” 

It’s not hard to see that Seokmin and Mingyu are friends, very close ones at that. But there seems to be more than what meets the eye.

For some reason - probably related to their stupid bet, Junhui figured - they’ve both started trying to hang out with him at all times. They don’t even study in the same field, yet Junhui always finds them around him on campus, sometimes together, elbowing each other to sit closer to him in the cafeteria just like they do on the ice to get to finish first.

And well, it’s an experience. A confusing one.

Mingyu often runs behind him when they meet each other while Junhui is making the commute from the dorm to the ice rink and offers to carry his training bag to the bus stop, all shy smiles and blushing cheeks, and Junhui thinks that he’s cute, sweet even. Despite his good looks and the way he carries himself on the ice, Mingyu is simply endearing: he stutters around his words and he’s so clumsy that sometimes Junhui has to reach out to stop him from falling face first on the ground after he trips on his own feet. 

There’s just so many times that Junhui can refuse Mingyu’s attempts at buying him a cup of his favourite tea when they meet each other at the café where Mingyu introduced himself for the first time. It’s easy to ignore the fact that the younger is just doing it for the money when he sits in front of Junhui and works on assignments in silence, a concentrated frown on his face as he sips on his coffee. 

And there’s just so many times that Junhui can ignore Seokmin when he makes the effort to be present at every single one of his training sessions, sitting at Jeonghan’s side and cheering for him every time he lands a jump - he’s is starting to learn their names and the differences between them as well, and Junhui wonders if the off-handed comment that he made weeks ago really struck that deep and made Seokmin want to learn more about figure skating, or if it’s just a complicated ruse to get him to agree on going out with him. 

Seokmin waits for him and asks him about his day as they travel back to campus, his sunny smile like a calming balm on the surface of Junhui’s skin. It’s easy to get used to the way Seokmin hums along to the songs that Junhui shares with him while they take the bus back, offering him one of his earphones in a show of gratitude. He could walk back alone, but he doesn’t mind the company either.

It’s when Mingyu and Seokmin are together that the whole picture gets blurry, that Junhui isn’t sure about what he’s looking at exactly. 

“What do you mean, something else?” Minghao asks, cocking his head to the side to fix his eyes on him. Junhui feels his gaze on the side of his face, but he can’t look away from the two hockey players racing each other on the ice, their laughs carrying on all the way to where they’re sitting. 

It’s with a shove of his shoulder against Mingyu’s that Seokmin finally manages to get rid of the taller man and skate away - it’s evident that Mingyu lets him do it, fumbling on his skates when he’s perfectly capable of pushing Seokmin back with just as much force and get him flying against the hard floor. 

A loud cheer comes from Seokmin as he does a victory lap, arms thrown in the air in joy. Mingyu, who’s supposed to be wearing a frown, is smiling as he watches him move around, his eyes following his teammate. It’s embarrassing how enamoured Mingyu looks. 

“There’s that,” Junhui points to Mingyu and the lovesick grin on his face. “I don’t get it. I’m quite sure they’re in love with each other.”

When Junhui turns towards Minghao, his best friend is staring at the hockey team getting off the ice with his eyes narrowed, probably focused on the way Seokmin has one hand on the small of Mingyu’s back, giggling at the prospect of seeing him do his punishment. Mingyu’s eyebrows are knitted, but his lips are still curled up in a silly smile. 

It happens all the time, whenever Junhui is so unlucky to find himself in the middle of whatever weird courtship ritual Seokmin and Mingyu think they’re performing.

On surface level they’re flirting with Junhui: Seokmin puts a hand over his shoulder, his smile wide and toothy, his eyes sparkling, while on the other side of the cafeteria table Mingyu nudges Junhui’s foot with his own, calling for his attention and putting his chopsticks in front of his nose with a bite of whatever he’s cooked that day - he’s trying traditional Chinese recipes and Junhui has to admit his attempts are turning out more than ok. 

They make him feel like he’s the center of the world for a minute or two, but then, when they look at each other, there’s electricity in the air. Mingyu flicks some rice in Seokmin’s direction and Seokmin rolls his eyes, smacking his lips in annoyance. Seokmin steps on Mingyu’s toes and Mingyu growls back at him, low in his throat, the sound making Junhui’s hair at the back of his neck rise on edge. 

When they think Junhui isn’t looking - or better, when he pretends he can’t see them - they try to trip each other, shoving the other out of the way with their hands and elbows, making silly faces behind his back. 

To the bottom of it all, despite their bickering, there’s fondness. There’s the tenderness on Mingyu’s face when he stares at Seokmin while he hums under his breath, his eyes focused on his notes, there’s the sparkle in Seokmin’s eyes whenever Mingyu lets him eat some of his homemade meals - and the way Mingyu always makes sure to cook enough for him too when he knows their lunch breaks overlap. There’s the way they always know what to say to make the other laugh.

Sometimes, Junhui just feels like he’s in the way.

“Hey, Jun-hyung!” It’s Seokmin that runs up to him, his signature wide grin taking up most of his face as he gets close to where Junhui is warming up by rolling his shoulders.

“Hey,” Junhui greets him, with just a glance to the side. They’re both wearing skates, so Junhui is slightly taller than him, but what Seokmin lacks in height he makes up with his hockey gear - he looks huge in it, and Junhui distractedly thinks about the interesting knowledge that Seokmin is still bigger than him even without all those layers of protection. 

“Don’t you want to see Mingyu suffer while your coach makes him do push-ups?” 

Seokmin has to raise his voice slightly to be heard over the sound of the ice resurfacer, and finally Junhui turns to face him, hands on his hips.

“Don’t you? What are you doing here, you’re gonna lose your little show or whatever.”

Seokmin pouts, bottom lip jutted out, eyes as big as saucers. 

“I thought you’d like to watch Mingyu’s punishment.”

Reigning the instinct to roll his eyes in, Junhui shrugs. He’s pretty sure that Mingyu doesn’t mind doing the push-ups; if anything it’s just an added benefit to his perfect workout routine - like anything that has to do with him, from his hair to his fashion, to his cooking skills, everything about the goalie is just perfect. A weird feeling simmers inside Junhui’s stomach at the thought of Kim Mingyu and his perfect face paired with his perfect body.

“No, I don’t really care. Was there something else you wanted to tell me?”

Seokmin seems to hesitate, taking in a breath and opening his mouth to speak, but stopping himself right after as if afraid of Junhui’s reaction.

“Just say it, whatever it is.”

“Can you teach me some jumps?”

For a second, Junhui is pretty sure he must be mistaken, must have misheard Seokmin’s words over the whirring sound of the zamboni. 

“What?” He asks, sounding dumbfounded to his own ears. Seokmin’s shoulders rise up, towards his ears, and the blush that was already on his face because of the hours of training he just went through gets deeper, the pink flush spreading to the tips of his ears.

“I was wondering.” He stops to emit an awkward cough, and the cheers of the hockey team counting down Mingyu’s push-ups get to their ears, making Junhui wonder how many brain cells those boys share. Soonyoung’s laugh is so loud that it fills all the space in the rink, easy to pick apart in a sea of people.

“I was wondering if you’d mind teaching me some figure skating basics.”

“What?” Junhui repeats, frowning at Seokmin’s sudden confession. “Why?”

“I think it would help me with balance on the ice.” Seokmin scratches his neck, still clearly embarrassed. “And well, I think the jumps are cool. I want to learn them.”

“Is it just an excuse to spend some more time with me?” Junhui can’t help but tease, but there’s no heat behind his words. If anything there’s a smile on his face at the way Seokmin avoids his gaze and shrinks under it.

“N-no!” He stutters out, but then he whispers: “Maybe.”

It takes just a second for Junhui to make a choice.

“Fine,” he says, “I can teach you. But it doesn’t count as a date. I’m your coach.”

Excitement sparkles in Seokmin’s eyes and Junhui feels the corners of his lips lifting up on their own accord, Seokmin’s happiness rubbing off on him.

“Now go and tease Mingyu on my behalf as well,” Junhui shoos the hockey player away, turning his back to him and walking on the resurfaced ice, removing the plastic that keeps his blades safe. Minghao is right behind him, a knowing smile on his face. 

“Don’t say a thing,” Junhui reprimands him, making his best friend put his hands up in surrender. 

“It wasn’t my intention to speak.” There’s a glint in his eyes that says the opposite, but Junhui ignores it in favour of skating away, wondering how exactly did he end up becoming so weak to pretty boys.

❆

Mingyu is sulking. 

They’re sitting together at a picnic table on campus, since the weather has warmed up enough to allow them to eat their lunch outside, and Mingyu has made food for them both as he always does on Thursdays. Junhui has stopped trying to ignore him or his incredible cooking skills. 

If Junhui was a weaker man he’d ask what is Mingyu upset about - maybe he’d even reach out to run his hand through the younger’s dark hair to get his fringe out of his eyes - but he’s not. He’s strong enough to ignore the tiny sighs Mingyu is letting out as he fills his mouth with rice. 

The truth is that there’s just so many times a man can listen to another man whine without asking what’s upsetting him, and Junhui thinks he’s reached that limit. He nudges Mingyu’s foot with his own, getting his attention and taking a peek at his sour face. 

“What’s up with you?” Junhui asks him, taking a sip from his thermos and watching as Mingyu inhales food - he always eats like someone is going to steal what’s in his plate, stuffing his cheeks to the fullest. At first Junhui thought it was scary, now he just finds it endearing. He’s starting to ask himself what’s wrong with him.

“Nothing,” Mingyu says between bites, “I’m just a little bit upset.”

“What about?”

Mingyu puts his chopsticks down to stare at Junhui, his eyebrows drawn together in thought. Sunlight falls on the crown of his head and Junhui really feels the need to comb his hair back for him. He busies himself with the food in front of him instead.

“Seokmin.”

At the mention of the name, Mingyu’s face looks even more disgruntled, the corners of his mouth curving towards the ground.

“What about Seokmin?”

“He’s always with you.”

Junhui tilts his head to the side in confusion. 

“You’re always with me as well.”

“That’s different.”

The frown on Mingyu’s face gets deeper, his nails scraping over the wooden surface in front of him, trying to remove a colorful sticker that someone glued on it and that is now peeling off. His eyes are focused on his own hand, avoiding Junhui’s gaze. 

“How is that different?” Junhui scoffs. “The two of you are always around me, one way or another.” 

“You are always together since you started teaching him to figure skate.” 

It doesn’t sound like an accusation, or like Mingyu thinks that Junhui is being unfair to him - it’s just a statement, a truth thrown out in the air between them. It makes Junhui’s defense mechanisms spring into action anyway.

“And what about it?” He demands, knowing full well that he sounds pissed off. “He asked me to teach him.”

“I know he did,” Mingyu sounds defeated, his mouth still curled into a pout. “And you agreed to it.”

Junhui still can’t believe that he actually did that, and that he’s started to give Seokmin figure skating lessons in his spare time - neither of them have much spare time, but they make the best out of what they got. 

If he’s being completely honest with himself, teaching Seokmin how to do jumps has given him a renewed joy for the sport that he’s loved since he was a toddler who could barely stand on his skates. 

A couple of sessions were necessary for Seokmin to get used to the toe picks and how he’s supposed to use them - and it was a feat to find some skates that he could borrow, because his feet are far too long. They laughed about that, and they laughed when Seokmin tripped over his blades when he first got on the ice and tried to skate as he usually did. He ended up sprawled against the ground, and Junhui had to hold himself up on the banister given how he couldn’t stop his amusement, fits of giggles shaking him and leaving him breathless as Seokmin fumbled around to get back on his feet.

When the younger finally started to get the hang of his new skates, the fun part began: Junhui started to show him the moves, twirling and gliding and eliciting excited little gasps out of Seokmin’s lips, parted in surprise as Junhui landed jump after jump. It’s been weeks now, and Seokmin is slowly perfecting his bunny hops and is starting to get the hang of the Waltz jump, making Junhui extremely proud - not that Junhui says it out loud. 

“You’re so cool,” Seokmin tells Junhui every time they’re together on the ice and the figure skater demonstrates how to perform a move, his eyes wide and sparkling with barely contained excitement. 

It doesn’t make Junhui’s heart race, not at all. He’s just tired because of all the ice skating he’s doing, both in order to train for his upcoming competitions and in his free time with Seokmin. From time to time Junhui needs to remind himself that Seokmin is probably doing all of that just because of the bet to calm the bubbly feeling inside his ribcage every time Seokmin cheers for him. 

“I’m just upset because you never agree to do stuff with me.” Mingyu’s voice comes out in a whisper. “And because Seokmin didn’t even ask me to join you.”

“Would you want to learn to figure skate?” Junhui asks him, reaching his hand out to stop Mingyu’s scratching before he breaks a nail. 

“That’s not the point,” Mingyu sighs, and Junhui doesn’t let go of his hand, squeezing his fingers gently. 

“What is the point then?”

“Seokmin isn’t coming to the gym with me anymore. I feel lonely.”

Mingyu is staring at Junhui’s hand around his own, but he doesn’t move to pull away, slouching in his seat as if the weight of the whole world is upon his shoulders. 

“Are you sure what’s upsetting you is just that?”

“What do you mean?” 

“Well.” Junhui lets out a sigh. “I think you like Seokmin.”

It takes less than a second for Mingyu to move away from Junhui’s touch, his hands disappearing below the table as he sits straighter, letting out an awkward chuckle.

“You’re so funny,” he says to Junhui, no trace of real amusement in his words. “But I like _you_.”

Mingyu pauses, freezing in his seat when he realizes that the confession has slipped past his lips.

“Wow, I’m flattered,” Junhui snorts, shaking his head. “That doesn’t mean you can’t like Seokmin as well.”

“I don’t like Seokmin,” Mingyu reiterates, but it sounds weak, not convincing in the least. Raising an eyebrow in his direction, Junhui asks him: “Are you sure?”

A whole plethora of emotions passes over Mingyu’s face, from confusion to horror, to surprise and then back to confusion, settling on it when his eyes meet Junhui’s.

“I’m sure that I like you,” Mingyu tells him, sounding less stunned than he looks. “Sure, at first I was trying to get a date out of you just to win the bet, but then as I started to hang out with you I realized that you’re amazing.”

Silence stretches between them at Mingyu’s sudden outburst, Junhui’s cheeks starting to feel hot as Mingyu’s mouth falls open, his own admission shocking him into silence. 

“T-that’s not…” Mingyu starts, weaving his hands in front of himself as if to dissipate the unprompted confession hanging in the air between them, but Junhui puts a hand up to stop his ramble.

“I already knew about the bet,” he informs the younger, watching as Mingyu’s lips morph into a grimace. “I overheard you two idiots talking about it in the locker room.” 

Maybe Junhui should still be annoyed about it, but he just got proof of the fact that even Mingyu forgot about the bet along the way. He shrugs his shoulders to make the younger understand that he’s not upset about it.

“I shot you down every chance I got because I was pissed off,” Junhui goes on. “But you two wouldn’t leave me alone.” 

Mingyu doesn’t even try to defend himself, casting shy glances at Junhui, his face red probably because of shame. 

“You kinda grew on me.”

The admission feels like a weight that has been lifted from his chest. Maybe he’d been trying too hard to avoid feeling like he can enjoy the hockey players’ company.

“I really do like you,” Mingyu replies, his cheeks ablaze. Letting go of his restraints, Junhui reaches his hand towards Mingyu’s hair, petting it out of his face.

“It’s ok, I think I kinda like you too.” 

There’s a glint in Mingyu’s eyes at that, a sharpness to his smile that is a promise for upcoming trouble.

“Would you go on a date with me, then?”

Junhui can’t help but laugh, his whole body shaking with the force of his amusement.

“You know what?” He lets out through fits of giggles, “Why not?” 

Mingyu’s grin blooms, his canines showing up. 

“On one condition, though.” 

❆

The cold is biting at Junhui’s nose as he stands outside of the ice rink, supervising Seokmin as the younger boy shoots at an empty net, moving around with his stick and perfecting his shooting angles. 

He’s been standing there for a while now, but Seokmin has yet to notice him, too focused on his own feet and on the way he can use the jumps Junhui helped him learn to avoid some imaginary opponents. Instead of calling for his attention, Junhui keeps on observing him from afar: he’s out of his hockey gear, changed to lighter clothes for his lesson with Junhui, but he’s still wearing his hockey skates, and it’s clear to see that he’s good at what he does. 

Not that Junhui had any doubts, since he’s seen the hockey team train and play far too often to deny that they’re definitely strong and good contenders to win the university championship. He’s never been a very big fan of team sports, too focused on his own shortcomings to be able to support other people’s moments of weakness, but he can see the appeal when he watches their team play together - especially when he keeps his eyes on the way Seokmin and Mingyu seem to be able to understand each other through looks, no need for words between them.

It’s a detail that he’s picked up when they’re off the ice as well, how they just need to meet each other’s eyes to know what’s going on inside the other’s mind, and yet they seem to be missing the most important detail that is written in bold red letters over their faces, and that Junhui was able to pick up in just a couple of months. 

“Junhui-hyung!” 

Junhui jumps up at the sudden call of his name, too lost in thought to realize that Seokmin has skated up to him, arms folded over the banister and a wide smile on his face. There are ice shards on his shoulder that Junhui wants to brush off, so he does, using his gloved hand to make the tiny snowflakes disappear. Seokmin’s eyes follow the movement, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Seokmin-ah, you’re working hard,” Junhui tells him, just to watch a blush spread over his cheeks as he stutters out a thank you, his shoulders rising to his ears making him look smaller than he is despite the height advantage he currently has over Junhui, who still hasn’t put his skates on.

“Do you still want to practice on your own?” Junhui asks him. “We can skip our session for today.”

“No!” Seokmin almost yells, making Junhui snort out a laugh. “I mean, no, you came all the way here, I want to train with you.” 

Junhui taps his gloved forefinger against the tip of Seokmin’s nose, nodding his head in agreement and smiling when Seokmin goes cross-eyed to look at his hand. 

“Then let’s put on our skates.”

It’s easy to forget the rest of the world when Seokmin is around, because he makes Junhui feel like he’s the center of the universe - the praise, the cheers, the smiles, they’re all for Junhui and Junhui only, and they make his heart bang loudly inside his chest as he shows a series of steps to Seokmin. Seokmin, eager but with a short attention span, tries to follow him but lets him finish on his own when he realizes he’s already forgotten what Junhui has explained to him earlier. 

Once Junhui is done - finishing off with a spin that he’s trying to perfect for his program, just to show off a little - Seokmin claps so loudly that it echoes inside the empty rink. Junhui bows, blowing kisses in Seokmin’s direction that the younger pretends to catch in his fists, skating around to get them all. It’s extremely endearing, and it makes Junhui want to close the space between them and actually plant a kiss on his puckered lips. 

One thing at a time, he thinks to himself.

He lets Seokmin exhaust himself for a little while, supervising as he performs the simple jumps that Junhui taught him, squealing in delight every time he manages to land without needing to rebalance himself - Junhui can’t stop the smile spreading on his face, and he doesn’t _want_ to. Seokmin deserves the praise for putting all of himself into learning, even if his initial plan was just to get closer to him. 

“Do you want to teach me how to play with your stick?” Junhui asks him at the end of their session, as Seokmin rests with his hands on the banister, his torso slightly bent as he lets out small puffs of air that show up as condensation clouds in the cold air. The question makes his head rise, surprise written all over his face, his eyebrows arched. 

“What?”

“Get your head out of the gutter, I mean the hockey stick.”

It’s with an incomparable pleasure that Junhui hears Seokmin’s breath stutter at the innuendo, laughing in his face when he almost trips on his own feet to skate away, ignoring Junhui’s call of his name and focusing on retrieving the sticks he discarded earlier, bringing a puck back with them. There’s still a faint blush on his cheeks, but Junhui is so kind as not to tease him more. 

Seokmin acts shy at first, guiding Junhui’s grip on the stick with fleeting hands, as if afraid of burning himself if he touches him for too long, but once Junhui begins to adjust to the stick his competitiveness starts to show up: he steals the puck from under Junhui’s nose, makes him run in laps to get it back and taunts him as he does so, smirks at him every time he whines.

It doesn’t take long for Junhui to be panting, his breath coming out troubled as he skates around Seokmin, uselessly trying to get the silly rubber disk back with the help of his borrowed stick. Exhausted, he raises the stick in the air, pretending to aim at Seokmin’s head with a swing and making the younger get away from him with a horrified shriek, skating backwards and laughing as Junhui runs behind him, still twirling the wooden prop like it’s a baseball bat.

“Ok, ok!” Seokmin laughs, putting his hands up in surrender. “Hyung, stop! No need to kill me just because you suck at handling sticks!”

Junhui doesn’t tackle him to the ground only because he knows that Seokmin is capable of sending him onto the other side of the rink with just a shoulder check. 

When they walk to the locker room it’s with laughter trailing behind them, Seokmin still teasing Junhui about his poor hockey skills. The smile on Seokmin’s face freezes once he sees Mingyu sitting on a bench inside the room, bundled up in a giant burgundy padded coat, the tips of his ears red because of the cold. He’s wringing his hands together, clearly nervous, and Junhui squeezes his shoulder while passing by and walking to his bag. 

“Mingyu?” Seokmin asks, clearly confused as why his best friend is sitting there, his nerves showing in the way he’s tapping his heel against the carpeted floor.

“Seok-ah,” Mingyu greets him, shooting him a half grin that doesn’t reach his eyes. Junhui has his back to them as he fishes his towel and some clean clothes out of his bag. Silence stretches behind him, but he can feel two pairs of eyes piercing through his skull.

“Seokmin-ah,” Junhui starts, walking up to Mingyu and putting his hand on top of his head, patting his hair slowly. “Mingyu and I are going on a date.”

At the revelation Seokmin’s expression falls, his eyebrows dancing up and down as confusion and betrayal follow one after the other over his face. When they stop, they’re knitted over his eyes, his jaw set.

“I see,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. The frown deepens when Junhui’s hand travels down, from the top of Mingyu’s head to the back of his neck, pushing cold fingers against his heated skin. “You’ve gotten cozy with each other,” Seokmin bites out, his tone as freezing as the air inside the ice rink. In the locker room the temperature is warmer, but not enough to melt the icy stare Seokmin regards them with. 

“Mingyu and I are going on a date,” Junhui repeats, ignoring the petty cluck of Seokmin’s tongue at his words. “And Mingyu has something to ask you.”

At that, Mingyu seems to remember he’s allowed to speak, sitting straighter, his hands deep down in the pockets of his jacket. He clears his throat, looking up at Junhui instead of speaking, searching for reassurance with his eyes. The older skater smiles at him, rubbing calming circles over the back of Mingyu’s neck.

“So,” Mingyu starts, his voice coming out in a barely audible whisper. He coughs once, sniffling a bit before speaking again. “Junhui-hyung knows about the bet.”

That’s not what Junhui expected him to say, and Seokmin seems to agree, because his expression morphs into utter surprise at the words.

“What?!”

“Yeah, he’s known all along.”

Turning towards Junhui, his eyes open wide, Seokmin looks for confirmation from the older, who nods his head.

“Yeah, I’ve heard you talk about it the very first day in this same locker room.”

“And you didn’t say anything?!”

Junhui shrugs his shoulders. “I wanted to see how long this whole ordeal would last.”

Seokmin seems like a fish out of water, opening and closing his mouth before he falls seated on the bench on the other side of the room. When he speaks, his voice comes out as a low murmur. 

“I forgot about the bet.”

“I did as well,” Mingyu admits, shrugging his shoulders as if it didn’t matter in the first place. Maybe it never did. “But it helped me realize that I really like Jun-hyung.” Mingyu tilts his chin up to look at Junhui, his eyes full of emotions, and Junhui feels a small burst of energy just below his sternum - he wonders if puppy eyes can give heart attacks.

“Well,” Seokmin chuckles, the sound tense, awkward. The smile that he wears like an armor is nowhere in sight, his lips sealed together in a straight line instead. “Can I keep the money then?”

“No,” Mingyu shakes his head, looking back at where his best friend is sitting. “Hyung wants us to take him to a fancy restaurant for our first date.”

“That’s cruel,” Seokmin bites out. “You can’t tell me you’ve scored a date and ask me to pay for it as well.”

“I never said that.”

Mingyu is on his feet in an instant, taking the few steps that separate him from Seokmin and standing right before him, craning his neck down. From where he’s standing, Junhui can’t see the expression on Seokmin’s face, but he can hear the little gasp that gets out of Seokmin’s lips when Mingyu puts his hands over his shoulders.

“I said hyung wants _us_ to take him on a date. Both of us.”

The chuckle that gets out of Seokmin is strained, a sound between a laugh and a whine. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he says, his fingers wrapping around Mingyu’s wrists. “Why would hyung want that?” 

“Because I like you,” Junhui finally moves, taking a seat next to Seokmin and patting his thigh lightly, “both of you.”

Seokmin’s eyes are as big as saucers as he turns around, towards Junhui. Given how Seokmin wears his heart on his sleeve, it’s easy to see the fear on his face. 

“And I guess I like you, too,” Mingyu adds, his voice trembling slightly on the last word. The speed with which Seokmin turns around towards his friend must have given him whiplash.

“What?”

“Hyung made me think about it.” Mingyu crouches down to sit on his haunches, his hands slipping from Seokmin’s shoulder to grip his thighs instead, right above his knees. 

“This whole bet, the way I feel whenever we’re competing to get hyung’s attention. The butterflies I feel in my stomach every time you look at me while we do some stupid shit or we’re on the ice, and you’re smiling so big and happy and _you_ that all I want to do is kiss you stupid.” 

Seokmin’s eyes are kind of liquid, but it doesn’t seem like a bad sign if the watery chuckle he lets out is anything to go by. 

“It’s been there for a while, but I didn’t realize until Jun-hyung pointed it out.” 

“Cheers to me,” Junhui pats himself on the shoulder, making Mingyu huff a small laugh. 

“Can you?” Seokmin suddenly asks, sounding like he’s trying very hard to avoid his tears from spilling. 

“Can I what?” 

“Can you kiss me?” 

Mingyu hesitates just for a second, his eyes moving to Junhui to make sure that he’s fine with that; what he gets back from the older is a solemn nod. It’s time that those two idiots bump their heads together in a not-so-platonic way, Junhui thinks to himself. 

For being so tall and wide, Mingyu’s hands aren’t as big as they probably should be, and they look just the perfect size when they cup Seokmin’s face. When Seokmin looks at him, Junhui sees sparkles. He stores the vision away, waiting for a moment in which he’ll see the same vision reflected in his own eyes. 

It’s nothing more than a quick peck, but it’s sweet, and Junhui can’t help but reach out to hold Seokmin’s empty hand as Mingyu presses their lips together. Seokmin squeezes Junhui’s fingers, and when Mingyu lets go of him he puts his dazed eyes on Junhui. 

“Can you kiss me as well?” Seokmin demands, his hand still in Junhui’s. 

Junhui laughs in his face.

“Who do you take me for? I don’t put out before the first date.”

His words are enough to break the tension in the room, making the two younger boys erupt into fits of giggles - Mingyu falls completely seated on the ground, his head ending up in Junhui’s lap, where it stays for the rest of their talk about feelings and whatnots, and plans about going on a first date, and a second one, and several others after those.

If Junhui kisses them both before getting out of the ice rink, their arms linked together as they make their way to the bus stop, there’s no way to know if it’s the truth or just some silly locker room talk. 

❆

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/starryhoch) or [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/slytherminie) :)


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